


Ancient Spirits Awaken (Indefinite Hiatus)

by Fallencellist



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Battle Droids, Canon Divergent, Clones, Death, Echo and Fives are still fighting strong, I'm sticking to Legends stuff, Jedi, Korriban, Moraband, Sith, The Old Republic plays a part, Violence, especially when it comes to Grievous, more to be added as chapters come, random Jedi and clones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-14 13:31:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16913757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallencellist/pseuds/Fallencellist
Summary: Tasked with rescuing two missing Jedi Masters and a group of lost padawans, our brave group of Jedi accompanied by Master Plo Koon and Master Shaak Ti, they recieve a message from the missing Jedi. Their job is to rescue the stranded Jedi on the abandoned world of Moraband, and find what has interested the mysterious Sith Master of Count Dooku. As they travel towards their destination questions plague their mind, and upon the sandy surface the past begins to reveal itself of what transpired eons ago upon the same ground they walk. What awaits their arrival?Note: this work is unfinished and will most likely never be finished, sorry about that





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A slight experiment with merging of Star Wars Era characters. It won't be too long, maybe a few chapters, but let me know what you think. This chapter is a short introduction before things pick up. Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated and encouraged! Thanks for reading

“This place we are going to,” Ahsoka speaks up, breaking the silence that lingers in the cockpit of the Twilight, “What is it?” The details of their mission have been more secretive than any other mission. This is including the time Master Kenobi faked his own death, going undercover to get close to that one bounty hunter for information. She, as well as Captain Rex and Commander Cody, are near clueless about the escapade. All that is known is this destination is abandoned, forgotten world. 

Another ship accompanies them, a smaller cruiser that is led by Master Plo Koon and Master Shaak Ti, with arc troopers Fives and Echo—and a few other clones with them—not too far behind. It’s a high priority mission having three Jedi Council members—and four Generals of the Republic total—going to this unknown location. 

Now that they are far from the comfort of their flagships, traveling through hyperspace, Master Kenobi addresses the question that has been burning in the minds of the young Togruta and the two clones situated with himself and Anakin Skywalker in the cockpit. 

“Master Sekt Tarr and Master Demmi Shan were tasked a few standard months ago to retrieve a group of younglings that were kidnapped by a Separatist fleet commanded by General Grievous,” Obi-Wan explains, turning the chair he sits upon to make visual contact with the three. 

“And as you can bet,” Anakin adds in, “they never reported back.” So, it is a rescue mission they are going on. 

“How do we know where to look for them then, sir?” Rex raises an eyebrow, curious about how to proceed. It’s not the first time they’ve charged head first blindly into a fight they could lose more than just a finger or blaster. General Skywalker has never been the best for making sure his plans are sound and not so spur of the moment, but at least they work. 

“I’m so glad you asked Captain,” Obi-Wan grins. This Jedi Master isn’t like the others, something both Cody and Rex appreciate. All the Jedi masters treat their brothers the same: like they are living rather than quickly aged replicas of a dead bounty hunter made just to die. The Jedi call them by names, not by the numbers. Though, Master Kenobi has a different air to him, one that makes him more of a brother to the clones rather than a Jedi commander. 

With the dynamic between Kenobi and Skywalker, it mirrors into the two Clones that work alongside them. Cody and Obi-Wan follow the rules closely, sometimes straying from it when the situation demands it. They are on the straight and narrow mostly. Despite this, however, they have a sense of humor that some don’t get. A sort of sarcastic humor that brings about a lot of banter with their counterparts. 

Anakin and Rex are on the other side of the banter. They are more on the angle of planning as they go, adapting to the changes and making sure the job is done. There’s no careless loss of life, each fallen comrade honored and their deaths not in vain. Sometimes, yes, their plans could go awry and cause more problems than help, but something slips in that allows the upper hand to be regained. 

Jedi Generals and Clone Commanders working in harmony to create two unstoppable forces across the galaxy making a force to go head on against the strongest force of the Separatists. 

“Not too long ago we intercepted a Separatist holocall between Count Dooku and General Grievous.” The ginger-haired Jedi always seems to be up to date on the happenings with the cyborg General—like some sort of obsession or a powerful rivalry that they both want to come out on top of. Not like Jedi are supposed to have attachments to rivalries or to hold grudges, but that’s another thing that makes him unique. Whatever the purpose is, it seems Kenobi has made it his job in the war to track down and bring the killing machine that is General Grievous to justice. Cody nor Rex can blame Master Kenobi, if given the chance they would revel in taking that horrific monster into custody and on trial for all his war crimes and lives taken. 

“The Count spoke of a large gathering of the Force,” the older Jedi continues, three pairs of eyes intensely watching him, “giving the coordinates to the good General and demanded he go check it out—that it radiated the Lightside—” 

“So that has to be Master Tarr, Master Shan and the padawans!” Ahsoka blurts out, hope filling every inch of her being. However, there’s a drop of dread within that hope, slowly growing larger as another realization settles in. They are racing against Grievous, whom is more than likely closer to the location than they are. 

That’s why they took the Twilight and its twin the Dawnbringer. The two ships are quicker than a huge Separatist Battlecruiser. They’d reach the location long before the Tinnies could even if they are a few standard days ahead of them. Still, there is a chance the Separatist General is not even bringing a huge dreadnought to arrive at the planet--he could just be taking a small ship with enough battle droids to stall a group of Jedi. Grievous never needs the droids to take on a group of Jedi, his history in battle showing that he could easily take on even a Jedi master, using their own techniques against them. Ahsoka is glad the times she's battled the cyborg has been in circumstances where he isn't at his top game--or doesn't feel the need to go full force on her, like he has some plan for her later. 

“Don’t celebrate too quickly my young padawan,” Anakin gently scolds, knowing what is coming up. 

A thoughtful stroke of the ginger beard and Obi-Wan clarifies what his ex-padawan means, “Along with the strong pull of the Lightside, Dooku mentioned there was a powerful pit of the Darkside—something his master is quite interested in.” 

Now that it is mentioned, Ahsoka could feel that dread growing stronger, creating a minuscule pit in her gut. It’s the same feeling she got before getting close to Grievous for the first time. A pure dread of the coming events, that death is drawing closer. It is no wonder why Jedi give warnings about Dooku's death machine. 

Even if the cyborg isn’t force sensitive, she doesn’t believe he is completely inept with and untouched by the force. No sentient being, not even a machine created to kill all walks of life, could be able to react so quickly to a Jedi attuned deeply with the force and evade the well placed strikes. But, even if he’s got a small fleck of force-sensitivity, it wouldn’t be enough to make more than a blip. However, Grievous reeks of the Darkside. The touch of the darkness flows off him like a choking fog. Influence of both Dooku and the mysterious Sith Lord clings to every inch of the duranium plating and whatever is left of the organic being Grievous was before. But that feeling of the Darkside, its pull to drag one down into the depths never to return, is unmistakable. 

“So,” Cody speaks up, his thoughts coming out vocally as they process through his mind, “We’re tasked to go in, retrieve the Jedi Masters and the younglings and stop the Tinnies from getting whatever this source is of that darkside?” His commanding Jedi nods. 

“Great, sounds easy,” Rex comments, though with a hint of sarcasm. His own commanding Jedi gives a silent agreement, expressed as a soft snort, “As long as we can blast a few droids and leave a mark in that monster’s body in the meantime, I’ll call it a great success worthy of recognition.” 

The others inside the cockpit laugh softly at that. 

“Patience Captain Rex,” Anakin suggests, taking a quick glance over his shoulder at R2-D2, his astromech companion, “R2, how long before we arrive at our destination?” A series of beeps and woops rise from the droid, only Ahsoka and Anakin able to understand the chatter. 

“Alright, get ready to drop us out of hyperdrive and set up the landing gear. The sooner we get landed the sooner we can rescue Master Shan, Master Tarr and the younglings.” 

A light glows, pulsing slowly as it casts its radiance upon the console’s surface. A signal they have an incoming message. Fingers glide over the panel before the blue holographic figure of Master Plo Koon appears. 

“Master Plo,” Anakin greets the Master with a bow of his head, “What is your position?” 

The Jedi Master lets out a soft laugh, “Always straight to business,” he readjusts his tone, shifting from a friendlier casual one to focus onto the situation at hand, “we are only a few parsecs behind you. Once you land on Moraband, focus on finding the missing Jedi. Master Ti and I will take our troopers and head to find this source of the Darkside. Get the younglings and the two Masters onto your ship and then join us.” 

“I have a feeling we will need the help,” hearing Plo Koon’s voice take a somber dip doesn’t leave any of the inhabitants of the Twilight feeling their best. 

“Don’t worry Master Plo,” Obi-Wan attempts to lighten the mood with a humorous remark, “I think we’ll be the ones needing help when Anakin gets us into trouble.” 

“I will not,” the young Jedi Knight retorts looking insulted—not quite fully insulted since he knows this is one of the usual topics of banter between the two of them. 

“We’ll see,” Even Plo Koon joins in, taking Obi-Wan’s side, “but I know we will get out of this in one piece.” Perhaps, there is doubt in the Jedi, keeping it hidden from being vocally expressed. Any doubts in their mission could place the seed of failure and be used against them. He’ll keep it silent. 

Then, with a bow of the Jedi Master’s head, the line goes dead. 

A few beeps come from R2, getting Anakin to let out a nervous laugh, “Yeah you said it little buddy.” 

“What did he say?” Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow in curiosity. 

“R2 says he has a bad feeling about this.” 

“Oh good, then I’m not the only one.” 

* * *

The claws click across the ground, metal against stone as the cyborg steps away from the group of battle droids. These words are only meant for his audio receptors. From the communicator placed upon the ground two figures appear before him. One has his body wrapped in a brown cloak, his silver hair and beard prominent against the dark cloak—the master who has taught the killer every trick of the lightsaber he knows. The other is completely covered in a dark midnight blue robe, all but between his chin and the bottom of his nose covered by the hood. The Count and Darth Sidious. 

Grievous bows before the two, the fins on the side of his head angling back, “My lords,” he stands up, spine bent forwards as he focuses reptilian eyes on them, “we have successfully landing upon the surface. It won’t be long now before we discover the source.” 

Dooku is the one to speak, exchanging a glance with his master, “Focus your efforts on finding that source of the Darkside. The Jedi intercepted our transmission, just as we suspected.” He can see the twitch of bone-thin fingers, a desire to go straight for the Jedi. The General knows that there is a certain Jedi accompanying the convoy, “Do not engage them General—” he doesn’t miss the narrowing of the golden eyes, a silent and aggressive asking of why. 

“Send a squad of battle droids after them, keep them distracted as you focus on your task,” Dooku reiterates, “Find the force-sensitive Lord Sidious spoke to us about.” 

“Keep them alive as long as they are useful,” Sidious speaks up, the General focusing over to him, “they know everything about this planet—they must remain alive until you find the source.” The Darksider craves this energy, to know what power it holds to radiate so far away. It’s powerful, something that must be obtained. 

“Do not spare any time, nor any soul that gets in your way.” 

Grievous bows once again, “It will be done Lord Sidious.” He pulls back the black cape, turning and trotting out to command his army on the plan. 

“Do you think Grievous can find this source, Master?” Dooku glances towards Sidious, an eyebrow slightly cocked, “It would have been better if I had gone. Finding a source of Force will be difficult since he is inept in it.” 

“The General is more capable than you think my apprentice.” It would be a mistake, a problem with his hearing. Dooku swears for a moment there is a hint of fear in his master’s tone, “This is a test to see how far the General can go, and how much damage that can be caused by his hands.” 

Dooku ponders for a moment, knowing that he must put his trust in his master, “I will trust in your words, Lord Sidious.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm playing around with the idea of having one chapter focusing on the Jedi and then the next be focused on the Separatists, but we'll see how it goes. So far it's going to be a bit of a slow build-up to what is coming despite what I said in the notes of last chapter. I've had time to think about this more and it may grow into something longer. And I promise I will not abandon it like many of my other multi-chapter stories.
> 
> As always, constructive criticism and comments are always appreciated and thanks for reading ♥

The touch down on the sandy surface of Moraband is smooth, only a few bumps on the decent through the thick atmosphere making it slightly less than gentle. The landscape around them is barren of most vegetation, only a few strands of grass and strange bushes that look as if they have been dead for years scatter across the desert. Beyond their landing spot is endless reddish sand, a few mesas and plateaus jotting up the land and precipices dragging the rocks below the surface. From this vantage point, it is no wonder the whole planet has been abandoned. 

However, what doesn’t give this reasoning for abandonment is what lays out on the other side of their ship. Remains of large structures sit against the sand, worn and tired from what could very well be centuries, perhaps even millennia, of erosion and wear. The largest building splayed out before them resembles a temple—or at least what is left of one. Once grand pillars are crumbled to the ground, the lower legs of ancient proud statues guarding the entrance tattered and full of chips. This place is magnificent even in ruins. The thought of it in the past leaves all five of them in a stunned awe. 

And then, there is the other point of interest. Downhill from the ruined temple is a series of four blocked entrances. Two on each side of the stretch, more collapsed pillars scattered between them and some blocking the entrances. Tombs. Ancient tombs housing what remains of powerful beings that once walked the very same sands they walk on now. 

“Such a welcoming place,” Ahsoka mumbles, taking a step towards the edge where the ground begins to slope down into the pathway marked out to lead down to the valley, “Does anyone even live here?” Beside her, Anakin heavily grimaces as the grains of sand beneath him. They all know the General’s heavy distaste for the sand—he’s been rather vocal about it every time they are on a desert planet. 

“From what Master Yoda could gather,” Obi-Wan frowns with his response, “it’s been abandoned for a very long time. It was once a place thick with the Force,” the three Jedi reach out with the Force, grasping at the remnants of the past flickering weakly through the energy. It’s there, just impossible to read, too faint to understand beyond the idea that it is there. 

“It’s so hollow. . .” the young padawan frowns, before something catches her attention. It’s a call, something speaking to her in that distant flicker of the force. 

_Come_. The sound, it can’t be something she knows. The dialect is nothing like the languages she’s heard. Yet, she knows what it is saying to her. It’s like low grumbles, an edge like jagged rocks breaking through metal but soothing at the same time as the waters of Naboo lapping against the shore. 

_Find me_. There is not mistaking it. Something, or even someone, is calling out through the Force, a voice that has been there for a long time. Could it be the lost Jedi—but wouldn’t it be in basic if it is them? 

“Did you hear that?” She whips over to the other two, eyes wide in fear and shock. Obi-Wan and Anakin’s expressions scrunch with confusion at her words. They didn’t hear anything? 

“I heard somebody calling out through the Force,” she explains, eyes still darting around in hopes that maybe movement will give her some kind of idea on where to go to find this mysterious being, “they talked to me.” 

“What did they say?” The older Jedi steps closer to the padawan, her master just a mere step behind. 

Ahsoka repeats the sounds she heard, a few times struggling to pronounce it correctly from what she heard, feeling the dread in her gut growing with the steadily increasing concerned looks from her master and his old master. 

“I’ve never heard such a language. . .” Obi-Wan mumbles, frustrated with the turn of events, “and that is saying something since I traveled with Master Qui-Gon.” Why would a voice be speaking in a language that is long dead. . . unless they've only known the language and/or they have never been outside of this world. Either reasoning behind the language the speaker uses could be good or bad. 

Hesitating, she speaks up, “I understood what they said—” there’s no helping the slight flinch as all attention is narrowed on her—even the eyes of Rex and Cody are on her, “—they said ‘come find me.’” Fingers fidget with the gloves wrapping around her hands, avoiding eye contact for the moment, “I don’t think it’s the lost Jedi, but it could be somebody in trouble.” 

“First we need to find the missing Jedi,” Obi-Wan decides, putting the information received from the young padawan on the backburner for the moment. It is more important to complete their primary mission, “Then we can find whoever is reaching out through the force.” 

“Right,” Anakin nods in agreement, Cody and Rex mimicking the motion. Ahsoka herself isn’t too enthusiastic to follow the action, concern and curiosity flowing through her head about who this mysterious being is calling out, and why only to her. There must be a purpose, a reason why she is being communicated with rather than one of the other Jedi. Is it her openness, or her inexperience allowing the voice to contact her. 

The group’s search starts out down in the valley, examining the area around and against the sealed doors for any place somebody could hide or evidence of the missing Jedi. 

It’s fruitless, only a few bodies of unidentified creatures laying close to one of the tomb doors discovered, one of them with its eyes still open. 

“It’s still warm. . .” Cody grimaces as his hand presses gently against the fur of the deceased creature, “that means whatever killed it could still be close by.” 

“Then I say we—” Rex begins before stopping dead in his words, “Look,” he gestures towards the torso of the creature. The marks across its flesh are distinct. Two gashes span upwards from its belly to its back, cauterized by intense heat to leave no trickling blood. Lightsabers. 

“General!” Both Rex and Cody call out to their Jedi Generals at the same time, getting both—as well as Ahsoka—to run over. 

As the three stare upon the dead creature, they share the same sinking feeling in their gut. This could either be a good sign or a terrible one. The gashes show that they were made at the same time, two strikes meaning either it was master Sekt Narr, or even Grievous. The idea that the General is planet side before they were dashes away some hope that they can rescue the other Jedi. 

Blood coats one of the other dead beast’s mouth, a trail leading towards one of the impenetrable doorways, slipping beneath a fallen pillar that lays barely lifted off the ground. Rex remains with Anakin and Ahsoka to observe more lightsaber gashes across the other creatures’ bodies while Cody and Obi-Wan follow the blood trail. 

“I don’t like this one bit sir,” Cody grimaces as they get closer, a heavy stench piercing his nostrils. At that moment he wishes he had the protection of his helmet to block out the horrid stench of death. 

The Jedi himself covers his nose with the side of his hand, squinting as they get closer. It smells heavily of rot and burnt flesh, “Neither do I Cody,” he sighs heavily, knowing what they will be finding, “Neither do I.” 

Much to his dismay, his hunch is correct. The small body of a Nemodian padawan lays curled, pressed against the doors to the tomb. What remains show that they were bit in the gut, only able to crawl into the small space before staying there to slowly and painfully bleed out. 

However, there is the source for the burnt flesh smell. What remains of the tissue around the ribs has a burned circle passing through the sternum. Another signal that a lightsaber had been used. Was it to put the poor padawan out of their pain, or to end their life cruelly? 

“Dear Force. . .” Obi-Wan bows his head, Cody standing up and walking a few paces away. Seeing the death of Clones, the death of Jedi and innocent adults is a blow, but that is an unfortunate effect of war. Seeing the dead body of a child, however, that is too much to bear. To the Clone, this doesn’t look like the act of mercy, more of a last blow to end the child’s life. It makes him sick to his stomach. 

“I don’t think we can reach him,” the despair in the Jedi’s voice is thick, standing up himself before joining his Clone Commander away from the spot. Cody knows why this deeply affects his General. Jedi have their ceremonies to honor their fallen, to burn their bodies so their earthly remains can become one with the universe as it once was. They can’t do that for the young padawan, unable to reach the body and there sadly isn’t much left to burn. 

“Let’s regroup,” Cody nods in response to his General’s words, following silently as they meet back up with the three. They don’t speak any as they trek back to the group, letting a moment of silence pass in honor of the fallen padawan. 

Anakin opens his mouth to ask about what they found, but quickly snaps it shut as he studies the steps of his old master. He knows enough just by that walk to not press upon the discovery. Instead, he opens it again to go onto something else, “Master Plo and Master Ti have arrived on the planet. They’re not too far North of us and are going to explore a cavern nearby their location.” 

“Alright,” Obi-Wan nods solemnly before beginning to hike up the hill, “let’s go back and check out that cave we came across on our way down here.” 

_Stay_ , the same voice, the gritty sounds formulating into basic slithers into Ahsoka’s mind. She jerks a bit in surprise, settling only a bit of her nerves as the words continue to flow to her. 

_Do not_. . . it’s broken up like before, as if a struggle to project the sounds into her mind. It’s like their connection to the force is broken, _go in there_. Weakened, but there. A strong presence that was once encompassing now reduced to a fragile thing. Barely living, barely holding on. But it is clear on what the warning means. 

_The cave_. Whoever this is, this being, is warning them to stay away from the cavern. 

“Why?” The young Togruta doesn’t realize she’s spoken aloud, not noticing the glances from the four males. Their pace continues forward, passing the rocks forming a barrier to keep the pathway marked back to the ruined temple—and the cavern that is set between the two landmarks. 

_Death lingers_. It seems like a simple response, the words starting to form more fluently as they trek closer and closer to the cavern the being has warned her about. This could be where they are, where they are either trapped or staying. 

_You are not prepared, just as they were not prepared_. It’s still in that language, yet it’s getting louder, more understandable. 

_You will perish before we can meet._ Whoever seems to lower their voice's volume as they speak those words, as if disappointed if that would become the fate of the group. Then, it shifts into something urgent. 

_Do not let your Masters enter the cavern._

Her attention snaps to Anakin and Obi-Wan, seeing the two approaching the gaping maw of the cave, “WAIT!” The word comes out more frantic and louder than she wanted. Both Jedi nearly jump out of their skin, turning to look at her. 

Obi-Wan clutches his chest as Rex, Cody and Anakin reach towards their respective weapons. As they see no danger approaching, each one slowly relaxes and moves their hands away from their weapons. Anakin gives a slight annoyed glance to his padawan. 

“I. . . I don’t think we should go in there,” she can feel the presence that comes along with the voice lighten, weight lifting off her, but not fully gone. 

“Did you hear that voice again?” This time there is pure concern in Obi-Wan’s voice, approaching Ahsoka. He frowns deeper as the young Jedi nods, “I don’t think this is a good thing.” Anakin exchanges a similar frown to his ex-master. They both agree on that statement, the two Clones shifting uncomfortably in their spot. 

Despite the distrust they have for this mysterious voice only speaking to the padawan, the aura radiating out of the cave doesn’t scream any good intentions. It reeks of death. Could this be the source of the Darkside energy Dooku spoke of? 

“Ahsoka,” Anakin approaches her, placing a hand upon her shoulder, “What did it say?” 

Hesitation, unsure if she should speak of it, wondering if she should confer with the voice. Yet, with only silence responding to her mental turmoil, it is better to let her master know. He, as well as his old master, are more informed in the Force—they could know more about this than she does. 

“It told me that it’s unsafe to go into the cave. . .” She feels awkward for the first time since she had been assigned to Anakin. It’s the feeling of being exposed, uncertain and almost as if she’s alone despite being surrounded by those she trusts with her life, “That we are not prepared, just as they, whoever it means by that, were not prepared. And. . . it said that if we went in there, we would perish before we could meet it.” 

Of course, Ahsoka isn’t going to speak exactly what she was told. Having this being talk to her specifically is enough, but to say something about them directly talking about her, that would drive her master nuts. 

Though, it doesn’t seem to have worked to avoid the result she didn't want. Her master seethes a tad, fingers curling inwards and that same spark darkening his eyes as times before when encountering a subject that quickly triggers him, “I want to speak with whoever this is. I want to know exactly what it wants from us!” 

_Prove yourself_. It’s starting to become less and less surprising to hear the voice speak in her mind. 

“Prove yourself?” She echoes the words, letting it come out confused rather than the eerie confidence the being spoke those same words to her. A vague riddle to solve, one of her master’s favorite things to receive. But the next bit gives assistance to push them in the right direction, her hearing not processing the annoyed response of her master to the statement given. 

_Find her before the Kaleesh finds her._

The Kaleesh? Alright, maybe this statement isn’t as helpful as Ahsoka first thought. What even is a Kaleesh? 

She pulls back into reality, feeling the weight vanishing completely. The voice will not speak to her for a while again, leaving her with more questions than before. 

“Find her before the Kaleesh finds her.” 

“Her?” Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, glancing over to Anakin before focusing back on Ahsoka, “So whoever this voice belongs to is either trying to help us, or is luring us into a trap.” He snorts slightly as the sight of the pouting Jedi is visible in the peripheral of his vision. 

“And what does it mean by ‘the Kaleesh?'” Rex adds in, his lips slightly pushed to the side, the corner drooping in a frown. 

For a few drudging moments they linger in silence, all minds working on trying to solve the riddle presented before them. Anakin’s mind rushes quickly, scrambling through trying to figure out the riddle while another part works to calm down the rage slowly building up with the frustration. Cody and Rex try their best to work on it, far from knowing about the possibilities with their lack of knowledge on the Force besides what they have seen expressed in battle by their Generals. 

Ahsoka remains silent, letting her thoughts calm. It is a hope to reach out and feel around with the Force. An attempt to grasp onto something that could help. 

And the one doing the most work, comes to a sudden conclusion. 

Obi-Wan snaps into reality from his thoughts, eyes growing wide, “We need to get back to that temple, now!” 

“Why?” Anakin tenses up, ready to burst into a sprint at any moment when his Jedi companion does the same. 

“I know what at least one part of that riddle means.” Without much more of a hesitation, Obi-Wan breaks out into a sprint, the four quickly following his heels. 

“I know what it meant by ‘the Kaleesh,’” he begins to explain as they run, keeping his pace fast but not so fast that Cody and Rex would fall behind, “Before becoming the killing machine, Grievous was a Kaleesh warrior. Unless that voice talking to Ahsoka is referring to another, Grievous is also looking for the same woman we are. And,” he takes a sharp turn to yield a quicker path up to the temple, “if this is connected to that cave with the Darkside flowing off it—” 

Anakin quickly picks up on what is meant, “That means he could be ahead of us to find that powerful source and then it’ll get in the hands of Dooku and his master.” Obi-Wan nods, screeching to a halt as they make it back to their ship, and the entrance of the temple. 

The air is thick around them, a heavy stench of metal, a sort of electric buzz invisibly dancing through the particles. It’s the same feeling when. . . 

The sound of metal clanking, clicks of weapons being aimed echo into the air, getting the five to snap into a defensive position. Lightsabers ignite, and the blasters point in the direction of the noise. 

A group of about two dozen B1 battle droids surround them, their soulless bodies ready to respond to a command to end the five lives. Yet, they have no command, waiting to attack. 

One of the droids moves, no blaster on its body, but a round communicator in its hand. For the moment, not a single other body moves besides that droid. It takes a few steps closer before stopping. The communicator is placed upon the ground and it steps back. 

Bright blue beams of light emanate from the device, flickering for a few moments before creating a life-size hologram. The long cape hugs the frame of the tall figure, fin-like shapes curling around the sides of the being’s head folding down as a winded breath is taken in. 

“Ah, General Kenobi,” the towering figure is unmistakable with the gravely and mechanically distorted voice. General Grievous in all his deadly and cowardly glory. Too afraid to even show up personally, hiding behind a hologram. The holographic cyborg glances to the other four and lets out a deep chuckle, “And the infamous Anakin Skywalker. I expected somebody with your reputation to be a bit,” the large head tilts a bit, “. . . older.” A wheezing breath is taken in before a short and rough cough comes out. 

“General Grievous,” Anakin shifts in his stance, sounds barely impressed to finally see the arch nemesis of Obi-Wan, “you’re shorter than I expected.” He almost wants to mock his old master for having problems taking down an asthmatic droid, but bites his tongue knowing that insulting the General could cause them to die in a hail of blaster fire. 

A snort rises from Grievous, “Jedi scum,” before a clawed hand moves the black cloak fitted around the broad shoulders, “I would come take care of you personally, but I have other matters to attend to.” The moving cloak reveals the lightsabers hanging from his belt, all trophies taken by Jedi he has slain. More than likely the ones he keeps close and dear are of his greatest kill. The ones that belonged to the strongest, the Jedi masters’ lightsabers that he has slain. 

“Besides,” a low chortle comes from the hologram, “I know these useless droids will only work to hold you for a few moments.” 

“Hey—” one B1 unit looks to its companion on its left, “Is he saying we’re fodder?” 

“Roger roger.” 

“Oh.” 

The growl from the cyborg gets the droids to shut up, “That is enough time for me to work,” Grievous’ reptilian eyes focus solely on Obi-Wan, “Then you’ll have another choice to make Jedi.” The Separatist General shifts to stand to his full towering height, making Anakin rethink his quip from earlier—yeah, that guy is fucking tall, “You can come after me—” he waves a hand, holding one of his lightsabers. 

No. . . that is not his—at least it is not one Obi-Wan recognizes as one of Grievous’, but of Master Shan. 

“—or you can save what remains of your lost party.” The monster hadn’t killed all the Jedi? All five of them know that Grievous spares no lives, having killed innocent civilians in the past and even a few younglings that have gotten in his way—so why did he leave these ones alive? IF they are still alive and it’s not a trick for them to miss out on capturing the elusive General, "You can make your choices what is more important to you: having a chance to capture me, or save your little friends from being claimed by the beasts that roam the sands." So, Grievous at least knows about the youngling that had died to the beasts. 

“You will pay for this!” Anakin snarls, tightening his grip on his own lightsaber. He knows of the cyborg’s reputation for taking trophies off his victims—even beginning to take trophies off high-ranking Clone troopers. A collector of trinkets to show his victories since the scars are only temporary before the parts are replaced. Seeing the lightsaber of a Jedi he knew, only makes the anger grow inside of Anakin, the want to make this horrific amalgamation of flesh and duranium pay. 

“Seems you’ve taught your padawan your own droning lines,” Grievous muses to Obi-Wan as he holds a few fingers, “That’s number five.” Without further explaining, the line goes dead, leaving the communicator blinking. Coordinates are attached to it signaled by a small blinking light on the edge of the device—most likely coordinates to the lost group of Jedi. 

First, they must retrieve it. Obi-Wan grunts in annoyance. It's not going to be easy to get it, oh no, the good General would not make it so easy as to just swipe it up and be on their way. Especially with the droids around, they will at least have to fight to get it and hope nobody breaks it amongst the chaos. 

In a blink of an eye the droids spring to life, beginning to fire off shots aimed for the Jedi and the two clones. Anakin moves forward, slashing the closest droids before force lifting the cut pieces and throwing them at the farther back droids. Rex blasts the farther off droids with his two pistols, Cody taking out the ones on the other side with his blaster and a well-aimed ion grenade. 

Obi-Wan moves quickly, swiping up the communicator, removing the risk of somebody breaking it—either by stepping on it or accidentally blasting it. From there he leaps forward, driving his lightsaber into the core of a B1 unit. 

Ahsoka keeps close to Rex and Cody, picking off droids that are trying to get at the non-force sensitives. She deflects a bolt back at one of the droids, feeling a smug pride as the other droids around that one seem to move back in shock. Her second lightsaber swings out, slicing two droids getting up close and personal. 

_Move_. She has little time to react to the voice before ducking, a blast bolt whizzing past where her head used to be, a shot that would have killed her. How did she not sense that blast? 

_Protect the blue one_. Ahsoka doesn’t question the help of the voice, instead moves to Rex, using her lightsaber to tear right through a grenade launched directly for Rex. There’s only a quick pause from the Captain to thank her before he goes back to picking off the few remaining in the distance. 

One by one, the droids are taken down until only one remains. It quickly drops the blaster, holding up its arms in surrender, “Don’t kill me!” It’s strange to hear one of the mindless droids beg not to be killed. It keeps still, backing away from its weapon. Aren’t these things not programed to surrender? 

“And why should we not destroy you right here?” Anakin points his blue blade at the droid. 

Obi-Wan puts a hand on Anakin’s own hand, lowering the saber for him. There’s some resistance to the movement, but not enough to counter the movement down, “Let it go Anakin.” The older Jedi uses the force to crush the blaster dropped, making sure the droid can’t just change its mind and pick it up again, "it's not like it can do much by itself." They're like the Genoisians, a hive mind almost that only functions well if they are in a group, "Even cruelty to a droid is against the Jedi teachings." 

“I can give you the location of the General,” the droid blurts out, shrinking a bit as they look back to it. 

"Why would you give up the location of your leader?" Rex stares down the clanker in disbelief. Yeah, this is a dumb droid he's talking to, but the idea of a subordinate being so cowardly to give the location of his commander is quite suspicious. 

The B1 unit seems to shiver a bit, metal rattling against metal, "I'd rather not face him for our failure." This one would be the only unit to receive the punishment of the cyborg since they others have already perished. 

“Deal,” Anakin doesn’t even wait for his ex-master’s opinion on the subject, knowing that if they know where Grievous is and the missing Jedi, they can save the group and capture Grievous. With the General in Republic custody, the Separatists will fall apart quickly even with Dooku and his master. They need Grievous to do that upfront work. 

Obi-Wan frowns but doesn’t go any further than that. 

The droid gives them the frequency of the General’s communicator, allowing them to track exactly where he is. 

And with that, the droid scurries off over the rocks and disappears. 

“I’ll go after Grievous,” Anakin starts, but his words don’t go farther than that. 

“No you will not,” Obi-Wan interrupts, giving a stern expression, “You will take Cody, Rex and Ahsoka to the coordinates to rescue the group of Jedi and padawans. Once you have them rendezvous with Master Plo. I shouldn’t be too long.” 

_Find her_. The voice rises back into Ahsoka’s mind, demanding this time. _You are running out of time_. 

“You’re always so confident you’ll bring in Grievous,” Anakin smirks slightly despite being annoyed that he doesn’t get the chance to do what his old master can’t seem to do, “yet every time you come back empty handed.” 

“Last time I did come back with his hand,” Obi-Wan quips back at Anakin, “So it wasn’t a complete waste, and I did bring him back—just not his whole body.” 

“I think it only counts if it’s the entirety of Grievous, Master.” 

“Oh, well then,” Kenobi clears his throat, giving a short shrug as he turns to head in the general direction the tracker is directing him, “Then I guess I’ll have to try harder this time." 

He smirks over his shoulder to the group, humorously saying, "Maybe I’ll get a leg.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introduction to a new character, one that takes on a bit more of an active role in the story. Though I don't really like making OCs in the light more than just being background characters I need to have her to pull the story forward. You may see more of her in the future, you may not. Who knows.
> 
> As always feel free to let me know what you think and thanks for reading!

The droid scurries until far enough away from the Jedi. Once a good distance away it slows into a stop. A quick scan around brings no pings, allowing the droid to pull out another communicator, the image of its General appearing, “General,” the B1 unite straightens up and salutes its commander, “I have given the coordinates to the Jedi.” 

“Excellent,” Grievous purrs low, bone-like fingers meeting each other as the very tips connect. The fools would only be chasing a single droid left out in the desert all the while believing it is Grievous himself. The cyborg would smirk deviously if he could, “Regroup with your squad and we will proceed to find this mysterious being spoken of. If she is the key to finding what intrigues the Count and Lord Sidious, I will get it myself.” The droid nods letting out its classic response before heading to meet up with its squad just outside the premises of the ruined building. As the Jedi head away from the temple, they would be going deeper inside it. 

The cyborg waves to his guard to put away the communicator before turning to the rest of the troops. He proceeds to jab a finger at the commando droid, “Take your squad and make sure the Jedi do not make it to this location.” The droid vocalizes it’s understanding before the small group of two other commando droids then seven B1 units head towards the entrance to the temple. They fan out, positioning themselves in hidden spots to ambush an enemy that enters unknowingly to their trap. Grievous knows a group of the Republic scum will come to this temple while the other goes to look for the droid posing as himself. Most likely Skywalker will come to this location while Kenobi goes after what he believes is the General. Jedi are all the same, so easily fooled. 

Grievous focuses towards the entrance to a hidden cave. A grunt rises followed by a cough as he approaches the opening, the Magnaguards escorting him following close behind. This "secret" cave isn’t normal. Etched into the walls of the forgotten temple it’s out of place, something that wouldn’t be found normally inside a temple such as this one. Escape routes are common, a place to retreat if the battle is brought to their home. Yet, most of those were better hidden, and most likely collapsed with what Dooku has told of this place. 

The remnants of the temple are what remains of an ancient Sith Academy, once a hub for Darksiders to hone their abilities before proceeding to the nearby planet to serve their Emperor closely on a planet called Dromund Kaas. Another place Grievous is going to have to visit on his journey—much to his dismay. Dooku’s instructions were rather vague, perhaps even the Count himself not knowing what is exactly being searched for. A great help for a non-force sensitive to be looking for something that is related to the Force. 

_Find the woman who guards the knowledge, she will be able to lead you to what we seek._ Dooku had informed Grievous of these words, a vision coming to Darth Sidious of this woman. She is the key to finding the source of this power Sidous wants to obtain. 

Grievous hunches over more, shrinking his height further in order to slip through the tunnel entrance. The arching ceiling curves enough to allow him to move without being at an awkward angle, even his Magnaguards having to squat down to fit into the short cavern. The air smells musty and stale, a stench that is dull against the keen olfactory receptors of his former Kaleesh self still embedded in his face beneath the plate. One of the few things that still lingers from his old life besides the sack of organs beneath the duranium chest plates. 

This path hasn’t been taken for years, any evidence of fleeing bodies washed away just as the structure it is hidden within has been weathered by time and the sandstorms. The rocks are a dark reddish-brown color, smoothed out to leave the tunnel deceivingly carved as if it has been meant to be there instead of a sudden escape route required. So, they must have built this as a precaution of attack. 

Grievous internally muses how this escape route mustn’t have worked since the whole planet is now abandoned. 

He maneuvers easily through the darkness as it grows thicker within the tunnels. His eyes adjust, the dim purple glow of his guard’s staffs bouncing against the rocks behind him. It seems each step taken brings him farther and father beneath the planet’s surface, taking him closer to whatever is on the other end. 

It starts to don on him after what feels to be minutes of crawling through the winding pathway stamped in stone. This tunnel is not for an escape route at all. It is a tunnel hidden to keep secrets away from intruders. A hidden trove of treasures, ancient secrets most likely with how Lord Sidious explains when it comes to Sith and their knowledge. Grievous never understands why their holocrons and databanks are so important, but coming from Kalee where holocrons were unknown and information was conveyed through generations and exchanged between tribes, those things never catch his attention. Even now, they serve little purpose when his own mind can store and recall all the information he could want. If he knows the information, or had it transferred to his memory banks, he could recall it. Perhaps one of the pluses of being a cyborg rather than a full organic. 

The realization comes as the pathway starts to widen, giving way to intricate carvings in the wall and archways decorated in reflective gems and more carved words. They are not of a language still spoken, none of the records accessed in his memory aligning with it. A dead language, just like this planet. Despite the shape of the tunnel with all its glittering and history, there doesn’t seem to be anything else. No treasure, no holocrons. 

One of the Magnaguards gurgles out its noise, alerting the General to a presence nearby. 

“I sense it too,” Grievous growls, hands picking up two lightsabers from his waist. It’s not the energy of the being that gives them away—no force sensitivity like those Jedi use to tell the presence of another, but the heat signature gives them away to the Magnaguards, and the scent for the General. They smell like death, the same lingering smell that surrounds Dooku. 

Lightsabers ignite as Grievous passes through the end of the tunnel into an open cave, raised and ready to strike out if this other being dares to attack. 

Droplets of water fall into a small pool situated in the middle of the expanse, stalagmites piercing through the ground why stalactites eject from the ceiling. They seem off compared to the other rocks, something glimmering about them—as if they are more crystals than just simple rocks. A few broken ceramic bins are scattered across the area, the contents they once held now lost or stolen. In the back of the expansive cavern there is an intricate alter, red stains upon the expertly carved slab, other markings swirled and etched into beautiful symbols. Long worn-down candles are mere wax in an eternal drip trickling down the small pillars surrounding the base. Behind the pillars, embedded in the wall is more symbols like the language see before, unreadable, incomprehensible. 

Something seems off, the scent changing like the winds blowing above them. The presence has changed their emotion, causing the smell to become more bitter. The aroma before a battle breaks out. It brings rise to the thrill of fight inside the soul of the monster, Grievous chuckling softly 

He quickly turns on his feet, blue and green lightsabers clashing with the blade of another, anticipating the attack of the unknown presence. A chortle is extorted out of him, pushing against the force of the blade against his two, "So it is a fight you want." 

The lightsaber blade glitters a copper color, a unique color he has not witnessed. No, it’s not a single blade, but a double blade. Even better. He pulls back a moment, getting a powerful kick into the assailant’s chest as his arms break off into four, the two new ones taking hold of two more lightsabers. Behind him the Magnaguards pull out their electrostaffs, moving to be on either side of their General, ready to protect, "Then bring it on. I will crush you." 

Now that the other is farther back, their features become more apparent. A female of her species, dark red-purple skin peeking out from beneath the dark robes covering her body. Piercing golden eyes are accented by the golden jewelry embedded into her skin: an intricate triangular shape adorned on the bridge of her nose, two diamond shapes at the far edges of her eyes and two angled triangles beneath her lips. Multiple looped earrings are sprinkled down her ears. 

What makes her different than any other species Grievous has seen is the tendrils. From her chin is two short tendrils and another set further up her jawline. Instead of eyebrows she has shorter tendrils that sprout from the sides of her temples. Dark crimson red hair is tied back messily, a few strands falling over her face. She has the steely determination of a warrior, something that intrigues the General even further. Her feet are exposed, three toes with talons. Two face forward why the other extends from the back. Reminds him a bit of the feet of a Kaleesh. Balanced on three clawed toes, graceful and dangerous. 

She quickly responds to the moment, darting behind Grievous before he can strike and makes easy work of his bodyguards. Their weapons clatter to the ground moments before metal parts accompany them with a cacophony of noise. 

Grievous hisses, kicking back to make another heavy contact of his clawed foot and her chest. She slides back a few feet, fingers tightening against her saber. For a few moments she waits in the position, watching the cyborg’s stance as he too studies and anticipates the next moves. 

In a flash of movement, the General lunges forward, two lightsabers swinging from the outside in order to distract as the two inner ones thrust forward. To retaliate the mysterious woman flattens herself to the floor, slipping between Grievous’ legs. 

Whipping around she attempts to get a strike into his back, her blade once again meeting with the blue of his own. They seem to be evenly matched, one strike met with another. An occasional physical attack besides the lightsabers hitting the other, but not enough to slow the other down. She knows she cannot strike physically into the duranium plating, it would only break her hand rather than do damage to the combatant she faces. Any attempts to get a hit near the green beneath the armor is quickly stopped and a retaliation is delivered quickly. But that doesn’t stop her from trying further, picking up a few broken crystals and rocks with the force, throwing them in the direction of the cyborg. 

They barely do any damage, the larger ones sliced clean through with precise lightsaber strikes. Grievous himself lunges forward, another clash of blades before he implements a new tactic. She is a match for him in lightsabers, able to counter his moves even as he switches between the Jedi stances. Perhaps she knows different stances that have been lost with time, ones that Dooku doesn’t even know of. Grievous pulls back, his foot reaching up to take hold of her face. The double-blades slash out, attempting to remove the claws that hold her face, before she feels her body lifted into the air. 

The cyborg shifts all weight onto one foot, pressing down before springing to life—he contorts to flips his leg up, turning in a full half-circle before bringing the woman down against the ground in a heavy slam. The claws don’t let up, digging into flesh and working to break the skin. The other grunts before gathering the Force, releasing it as a blast of energy to throw the General into the ceiling above. Rocks tumble down, shimmering flecks of crystals embedded into the worthless formations following suit, glittering in the light emanated from the six blades. 

The heavy body falls to the ground, an easy catch for the cyborg warrior as he lands with all six limbs bracing himself against the ground—lightsabers deactivated for the moment as the recovery occurs instantaneously. He scurries a few paces forward before shifting back into his attack stance, using the momentum to bring his legs over his head and then flip his body into an upright position. 

Lightsabers reignite, twirling back into position as all rise above his head, angled down ready to strike at the woman. A flash of blue and green, Grievous lungs at her once again, the tip of one of his blue lightsabers catching the other’s arm—yet no sound comes out of her, just another dodge to the side, barely missing the others. She’s growing tired, while he can continue going for many more standard hours. Another swift kick sends the woman flying back into a wall. A grunt rises from her as she collapses onto a horizontal surface. Slowly, with a hand pressing against her gut, she stands as much as possible without the pain overcoming her senses. 

She watches as Grievous approaches, sheathing the copper blade and kneeling onto the alter surface, “I yield to you, Kaleesh warrior,” her voice is soft, flowing like a song. It’s a contrast to the gruff and hoarse tones of the General, “My life is yours.” The blade is placed in front, her head bowed. 

Slowly, unsure about the situation, all four lightsabers are sheathed as well, but not yet put into their place around his waist. This must be the one Dooku has sent him to find. A woman of an unknown species adept with a lightsaber crafted with two blades is not something Grievous expected to find. 

“Who are you?” He demands an answer, golden eyes burning as he steps closer to the kneeling shape. 

She doesn’t meet his gaze, keeping her head down in respect. He has bested her in a fight, has proven to be the stronger one, which is the reason for her to yield to him, “I am Kita’ri, what is left of the Guardians, protectors of the ancient knowledge.” So there were once others like her, “A guardian of what lies dormant under the sands of Korriban.” And she is the one Sidious saw in his vision. 

“Korriban?” Grievous repeats the word with disgusted confusion. That is not the name Dooku gave him for what this planet is called. Why can’t they all just keep the names the same? 

Kita’ri gives him a perplexed expression, unsure about the misconception she is receiving, “This is Korriban, the Homeworld of the ancient Sith Lords. I do not understand your confusion, Master.” 

“First of all,” the cyborg warrior snaps, pointing a bone-like finger at her, “I am not your Master, and second, this planet is called Moraband.” 

“Moraband?” She repeats with a similar puzzlement as the way he repeated Korriban, “That must be the name the galaxy calls our home now,” the woman still doesn’t stand, but continues to elaborate, “after the fall of our Sith Empire, fewer and fewer acolytes were brought to these sands, and eventually it all ceased. My brothers and sisters were the only ones that remained here by our oath to protect the ancient knowledge until one worthy to learn came along.” She raises her golden gaze to Grievous, something in it giving him an idea of what her next words are. 

“And you have proven yourself strong enough to be granted access to it,” Kita’ri adds in, “and you have won in battle with me—I have yielded and must serve you loyally. It is the way things must be, Master.” 

Great, now he’s going to have her following him around like a lost tauntaun, “Why don’t you pledge yourself to the Count,” Grievous pulls out the communicator from his cloak, holding it out as the blue holographic figure of Count Dooku appears. She doesn’t seem pleased to see him. 

“Greetings,” Dooku bows his head in respect to the woman, “I am Count Dooku. And you are?” 

Kati’ri bristles at him, the tendrils on her face tensing up, “My name is of no concern to you, Count. You have only proven to be cowardly to not come here yourself.” Grievous holds back a desire to laugh at seeing the Count’s response to her attack on his character. His eyes widen a bit, shocked by the outburst. Truthfully, beneath the cold exterior there is a hint of surprise from the cyborg warrior with how quickly the woman could become venomous after speaking so calmly to Grievous moments prior. 

“I do apologize for not being there personally, but I—” He’s interrupted before he can continue. 

“I do not care for apologies,” Kati’ri growls, “If you seek the knowledge of the Sith of old as well as the secrets the Lingering One holds,” she narrows her golden eyes, “Come seek them yourself instead of sending your apprentice out.” 

“He is only my apprentice in lightsaber training,” Dooku corrects her. How infuriating that is all Dooku sees him as: seeming to just be a trainee to be able to best Jedi when all he is given is useless battledroids that work more as fodder than actual troops. Dooku only sees him as a tool of murder, a bringer of death upon his enemies. Perhaps that is all he is, but that status doesn't insult him. Grievous is a creature of death, the bearer of destruction and war incarnate. 

“Then that is disappointing,” she takes a glance to Grievous behind the hologram, seeming to talk to him rather than Dooku from that point on, “there is more potential than what you allow to be shown—suppressed power that could rival even the Sith that walked these sands.” 

The Sith Lord himself stands there, stunned into silence. For once, he is unsure how to respond. The Count seems nervous, unsettled by the words of Kati’ri. He was getting chewed out by. . . whatever species she was— to Dooku she is most likely an inferior slave species, “How dare you talk to me like that you alien wretch!” 

In an instant Dooku felt a pressure on his mind, as if somebody was taking their hands and squeezing his head between their fingers. 

Her eyes never break contact with his, as if forcing him to keep his eyes open, to keep staring into hers, “I am no wretch, human. I am one of the last remaining Purebloods. The Darkside is the blood within my veins. I am the very embodiment of the Sith,” Kati’ri raises her head in pride, “I am a Sith Pureblood.” 

Grievous wants to say nothing, to see how far this series of events could go—however, the idea of wasting more of his time being on an abandoned planet looking for something that wouldn’t directly benefit himself is a stronger pull. And well, having to face the wrath of Dooku as this Pureblood angers him doesn’t seem like a good welcome home gift. 

“You will relay the information to me then,” he interrupts the argument before it can go any further. Kati’ri studies both the holographic Sith and the one who had bested her in a fight. She keeps a pensive look, eyes narrowed slightly. Whatever is going on inside her head, it’s a heavily debated decision. 

“Very well,” finally speaking, Kati’ri bows her head to Grievous, “if it is what you want Master, I will work alongside to give you access to what has brought you to this sacred land. And. . .” another glare shot towards Dooku—a little less venom since she can sense some annoyance from her new master—and not just the annoyance of having her alongside him now, “I will speak details in front of the Count. Those who pass the tests are granted access to the tomb of the Lingering One but must be present to learn the truth.” 

Dooku adjusts the cloak surrounding his body, a hand slipping from beneath to rest on his chest, “I assure you I will be joining you shortly after a few nuisances are dispatched with,” dark eyes focus onto Grievous, “General, I would like to have a private word with you.” 

Golden eyes turn to the Sith woman, her head bowing before quickly picking up what is wanted. She backs away farther into the cavern, slipping past the small pool of glittering water before sitting to meditate. A few beats pass as the two Separatists wait for her to go deep into meditation. 

Grievous knows exactly what one of the Count’s questions but waits until he hears it directly from Dooku himself. 

“I see you’ve acquired the one I sent you there for,” Dooku remains with a hint of causality in his tone, arms folding behind his back, “and that she is calling you. . . ‘master?’” An eyebrow cocks, a skeptic expression plastered to his visage. 

There’s that question he was waiting to hear, “Must be one of the Sith traditions,” he growls, reptilian eyes focusing momentarily on Kati’ri, “I bested her in a battle, and she ‘submitted’ herself to me.” It is not too far off from his old culture, the bits and pieces he can still remember of it through the dense fog in his mind. When somebody was bested by another in battle, they submit themselves to whatever fate the victor sees fit for them. Perhaps, the Sith carry such a view as well. 

“That is an old tradition,” the Count scrunches his eyebrows together, even more perplexed by the advancements of events. There’s a flicker of something else—is that fear in the dark eyes, fear of something that has transpired in the short battle? 

"In the old traditions of the Sith when a Sith apprentice is sent out to battle another, if they are defeated they pledge themselves to the victor, putting their life in the others hands," Dooku recalls the information from the rare bits of Sith history that can be found. He runs a few fingers over his graying beard in thought, running them along the sides of his jawline, "Keep her alive for now." 

He shakes his head to move on, knowing that for now there must be the upmost priority directed towards retrieving this Darkside power his master is interested in, “Our focus is on what you are there for, General. She will be the key to finding out where this source is and if we can acquire it from this Lingering One.” No records, nor from what Darth Sidious has spoken of, say anything about a Sith Lord with the title of the Lingering One. It mustn’t be their original title—which makes both living Sith quite interested in finding out who they are. 

“It will be done, my lord,” Grievous bows, one hand across his chest as he bends his spine, “I will not fail.” 

“I do hope so General,” Dooku takes on a serious tone, his expression souring at the memories of the latest escapades the cyborg has been on, “You most recent failures has shaken our trust in your ability to continue to lead the droid armies—” he can feel the anger all the way from the orbit of Genosis flow off Grievous, “—but if you are to succeed in this, I have a feeling it will inspire you and assist greatly in taking down our foes.” 

Grievous holds back a growl, merely nodding in agreement, “Yes, my lord,” before the holocall ceases. 

The moment the blue apparition of his master vanishes, the communicator is chucked across the room with all his inhuman might. Upon impact on the cavern wall it shatters into pieces, small sparks bursting out as metal and wires break from the force applied by the cyborg. 

The growl rises, turning into a roar of anger, “I do not need some artifact to make my battles easier!” Claws curl inwards, clenching his hands tightly that the inside of his hand is left with deep scratches, “the only inspiration I need is the corpses of Jedi scattered in front of me and the fear in their friends’ eyes as they know it is their future! I only need their cries of fear and agony to fuel me!” 

The outburst seems to have stirred Kati’ri out from her meditation, slowly approaching Grievous as he turns, raking his fingers down the side of the cave, “Master,” she doesn’t flinch as he whips around at intense speed to glare down at her. Standing at his full height, the Pureblood barely reaches up to the bottom of his chest plate. 

She waits, feeling the anger boiling off him start to simmer down, then speaks, “may I speak of something to you?” 

“What is it?” There is no way he is going to get used to being called Master rather than General or the occasional Lord. 

The woman holds out her hands, a signal that she would like his hands to rest atop hers. Complying, Grievous rests his own on top of hers—the delicate red hands nearly be swallowed up by his large bone-like hands. 

Kati’ri closes her eyes, head angling down as she reaches out, sensing everything around them and everything inside of her master. She can sense everything about him: his past and his future, the changing of the life within what is left of flesh. He is not just a mere monster past being alive—he was once alive, once a being of flesh and emotions more complicated than pure primal anger and animalistic rage. 

“You have the blood of a force sensitive running through your veins, mixing with the blood of the Kaleesh warlord you once were,” her slender fingers brush over his palms, “You were an unstoppable force in your youth,” the words are odd, so familiar to the cyborg yet so distant and hazy. She is recalling his past, but it doesn’t sound like what he has been told. 

The Count had said Grievous willingly submitted himself to the changes after being denied by the Jedi for his lack of force sensitivity, that the Jedi had blown up his ship upon departure to help his home from the war against the Huk, the same war the Jedi and Republic got involved in on the side of the cowardly insects. But that never seemed to settle right with him. It was wrong, didn’t click in place, a puzzle that has no pieces connecting. 

Kati’ri continues, reaching through the force to bring out more—as she speaks the history starts to worm its way past the barrier, returning to the forefront to replace the false past, “You lead your people into countless victories against your enemies, until the Republic interfered. After that, you did all you could to help your planet recover from the economic crisis and the starvation plaguing your people. But. . . you became this, you. . .” her eyebrows furrow, getting Grievous to blink, wondering what is causing the change. 

“Something is holding you back,” her eyes open, staring into his own golden hues, “there is something suppressing your power—something implanted out of fear control could be lost.” 

Control? The very notion of somebody controlling him, like pulling him around on strings to keep him in line, is ridiculous. Yet. . . Grievous can’t exactly deny it either. Is there a reason he always does what is ordered of him besides knowing it could be beneficial to the efforts of the Separatist Alliance? Was this the doing of Dooku, or San Hill? 

All too familiar anger roars into a boil, but he doesn’t tear away from the Pureblood. Burning eyes remain on hers, a reflection of the anger in her own, “I believe the Lingering One can help you, Master.” 

“What can this Lingering One do for me?” He sneers, still feeling the uncontrollable rage fill his every motor and receptor. 

“He can help release the control over you—” Kati’ri never lets her gaze wander, “—he can heal you.” 

Well, that makes this trip even more worth his time. Pleasing Dooku and Lord Sidious by finding this source of their Darkside interest and giving him something that will rectify his failures against the Jedi, “Then let us stop wasting time and find this ‘Lingering One.’” If her words are correct and this _Lingering One_ can "heal" him from whatever is controlling him, then he can achieve greater things, complete this war and finally be done with the pain of it all. 

“Of course,” Kati’ri bows here head, gently retracting her hands to rest at her sides, “Follow me, master.” She pauses before moving, keen senses reaching out through the force, “There is company above.” Quickly, the trajectory is changed from going through the tunnel Grievous had came from to another on the opposite side of the cavern, “This way will lead us out into the Valley of the Dark Lords.” With that, she leads the way, her pace quick but enough for Grievous to move at a leisure pace.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another new perspective, slightly jumping around--though most likely one of the few times they will be the main focus of the chapters. Things are starting to pick up. Can you guess who the Sith are from the few hints I've given?
> 
> As always constructive criticism and comments are welcomed and thanks for reading! May the Force be with you and have a wonderful Life Day coming up!

“We have company,” Master Plo Koon calls out to the troopers behind himself and Master Shaak Ti. The blue blade of his lightsaber ignites, joined by the twin-color of Shaak Ti’s blade, “Be ready to fight, it seems the Separatists has arrived before we did.” The marching of metal feet approach, closer and closer as the group of Republic fighters prepare themselves. 

“They shouldn’t know of our arrival,” Fives hisses, his guns at the ready as Echo—his fellow ARC trooper—readies his own weapon and a few ion grenades, “we got past landing and they didn’t see us then, why focus on us now?” They only had a few spare moments to explore the cave system behind them before the marching steps caught their attention from above. 

“Unless this is the point they’ve been waiting for,” the second ARC trooper retorts, a similar thought to what Plo Koon has swimming around his head, “get us when we are focused on something else.” 

“Listen,” Shaak Ti interrupts, holding a single red-skinned hand to silence their talking. All listen as she commanded, trying to catch what she is trying to show them. 

And then, there it is. Silence. 

From the hidden location of the Jedi and their troops, nestled inside the cave, there is no visible line of sight of any droids—which also means there is no visibility of them either. 

“Sounded like a whole battalion of clankers,” Fives grumbles, taking a glance over their supply of grenades and medicine, “I don’t know if we’ll have enough supplies to get us through that many.” It’s not that he lacks faith in the group—no, that is far from the reason—but the distinct sounds of the Commando Droids make an anxious sensation breed in his gut. Those things still haunt him from his newbie days, watching as they slaughtered his commanding officer, how many of Domino Squad they lost that day. Only himself and Echo survived. He knows himself and Echo, as well as the Jedi and the troopers brought along would have an easier time together taking down a good amount of clankers, but from the noise made they are heavily outnumbered. Maybe ten for each trooper and twenty for each Jedi would be enough, but if they could take out that many is the real question to ponder. 

Echo pulls down the scanner on his helmet, picking up the energy signatures of each droid, “Holy crap,” that does not bode well, making even Shaak Ti frown, “that is a lot of clankers out there. Overkill for just the group of us. I don’t think they’re here by coincidence.” 

“How did they find our location?” One of the troopers—a fresh newbie named Runner due to his like to engage up close and personal with his enemies—voices his concern, making sure to keep his voice down despite the emotions. He is one of three newbie troopers that have accompanied them on this mission. An honor when it comes to being a shiny fresh out of training to be accompanying two Jedi Generals and two Arc Troopers on a rescue mission coordinated with their commanding officers and two other Jedi Generals. Something they can brag about to their fellow troopers when they get back. 

“And why focus on us?” Another trooper, Racket, adds in the questions swimming in his head, “Plus why so many just for one group, are they here for another purpose?” 

Plo Koon exchanges a thoughtful glance with Shaak Ti, both starting to get the same thought. These droids are not there to take down the Jedi and their troopers; they are here to distract them, to keep them occupied while their commander finds what he is looking for. The more outnumbered they are, the more time it will take them to get past the obstacle. An ingenious plan, too bad it's being used against them. Another tactical mastery courtesy of General Grievous. 

“We need to find a way to slip past them,” Shaak Ti speaks up, glancing back towards the cavern they had just returned from, “we can’t take on that many and we need to focus on finding this source of Darkside energy before Grievous does.” 

Echo snorts which gets a glance from the other ARC Trooper. He shrugs still holing back a bit of laughter, “What? I still think it’s funny they sent the big clanker instead of the assassin to deal with something relating to the force. It’s like asking one of us to go retrieve some sort of Lightside artifact—it just doesn’t work.” 

“Don’t degrade your abilities Echo,” Master Plo assures the trooper, “Even those who are not adept in the Force can sense channels of it. And—” he would be frowning if the expression could show, “that includes Grievous.” He pulls back a few steps, directing the group to head back into the cavern, “We’ll go back into the cave and find an alternative way out.” 

“Back in?” Racket peeps out, feeling uneasy about the idea, “Sir, we found nothing of another exit and more of those creatures could be in there—not,” he clears his throat to try to calm the jumping nerves in his gut, “not that I’m afraid, there’s just a chance we could get swarmed after those ones fled.” 

Shaak Ti ushers them back inside, herself and Fives taking the front, the younger troopers sandwiched between them and Mater Plo and Echo in the back. On their previous trek through the cavern they were only met with curving paths that brought them to the same spot right back at the entrance. Other pathways were blocked off, and some neither Jedi felt would bring a good end to their expedition. 

Yet, they can still feel that source of power, the pit of the Darkside dwelling below their feet, but still dull and out of reach. It makes the ground feel permeable, that any moment they could be swallowed into the darkness below, choking out the air from their lungs, suffocating them in the heavy blanket as they are slowly consumed. There is no choice but to return, to go back and hope to get through those areas of dread without losing one of their group. 

Together, they head back into the tunnels, the glow of the azure lightsabers and the lights equipped to the trooper’s helmets illuminating the path before them. The walls are the same with the jagged rocks pressed up against the rough structure of the tunnels and bits of what remains of hatched creature eggs. Previously, as they wandered through the space for the first short time many of those eggs, and what made them, were killed as the creatures tried to attack them. Now, the air remains still, silence ringing out along with the hum of the blades of energy. 

Scattered among the tunnels are small caverns, usually just an open bubble within the tubes of pathways containing various shapes of rock formations and the occasional puddle of cave water glimmering like a translucent crystal. Other than those, the group hadn’t found anything interesting. Until the cavern they come upon now. 

“I don’t remember this when we were in here earlier,” Echo grimaces, scanning the area around them. No signature of anybody creating heat nor an electric signature—no creatures nor battle droids present. 

And gazing upon the cavern is different from the rest as well. One would believe that the glimmering crystals would give a sense of ease with the countless beautiful facets of the formations and the glittering light shimmering off their colorful surfaces. Crystals of all colors flower from the earth beneath: shades of blues, greens, yellows, purples, reds and oranges, one structure seeming to sport a lack of color, just a slight white tint to the translucent construction. The crystals cover majority of the edges outlining the exterior of the cavern, some resting atop the ground while others seed into the walls. 

“Why am I unnerved despite how pretty this all looks?” Fives tries to make his voice sound more of a joking tone rather than the trepidation that is filling him up. Something amongst the dazzling crystals is pulling it all down, sucking in the ease and awe to only leave dread and fear. 

“How did we miss this?” Shaak Ti frowns, glancing over her shoulder to Plo Koon, “we missed such a powerful source of the Force—not just of the Darkside.” She steps over to the nearest crystal formation, running her hand along it. A small piece breaks off, allowing her to get a closer examination of it. The power radiating off the white crystal is immense, heat being sapped away from her body into its core. It is like a lightsaber crystal, forged by the Force to enhance the blade, to give it the unique color, but the sheer amount of power makes it different—more dangerous, “These are lightsaber crystals. . .” Something must be hiding them from those who reach out into the force, something that is supposed to be hidden for a reason. 

“Sirs,” Runner calls out slowly, waving for the others to come see what he is standing beside. Right next to the center of the cavern he cautions them to approach slowly but not got too far. 

Master Plo is the first to gaze down at what Runner is bringing to their attention: a large gaping hole opens in the center of the cavern, pure darkness beneath it. There is no sensing anything below the layer of the void, no telling how deep it is or what is down below. It’s an anomaly, a possible barrier put to protect whatever is housed beneath it—and with this barrier means the object or objects below are of great importance. 

“Somebody want to test what’s down there?” Burner, another of the younger clones suggests, “Looks like it’s important.” 

“Not the wisest choice,” Echo softly scolds the trooper, knowing by a glance it is unwise to risk lowering somebody into the pit, “but a decent idea.” He reaches back into the backpack strapped to his back, watching from his peripheral vision as the young troopers swap glimpses amongst themselves, no doubt confusion beneath their white helmets. 

In Echo’s hands is a small probe droid, a dim blue light phasing in and out. He nudges the little thing and the blue light bursts to life, the legs unfolding themselves from beneath the droid’s body. It hovers off his hand, giving off a few beeps before focusing the source of the blue light—what seems to be its ‘eye’—on Echo. 

“I need you to scan down there, little guy,” Echo points down at the hole in the ground, watching as the droid turns to it then back to him with a few beeps, “I know, I understand, but you’ll be helping a great deal.” Another few beeps, the droid waves a few of the legs and hovers over to the hole. 

“You’re a life saver little guy,” the ARC trooper gives a thumbs up to the droid. Fives shakes his head, suppressing a laugh with how attached Echo is with that droid. Ever since he got the ‘little guy’ as his fellow trooper calls it, Echo has been babying it almost, treating it like the thing is his kin—sometimes better than his fellow troopers. Well, it’s not like Echo treats his brothers with disrespect, but he does treat the droid slightly better by occasionally baby-talking it. At least he doesn’t baby talk Fives or the troopers, something he is beyond grateful for. 

It woos once more before descending beneath the darkness, instantly vanishing as the blue glow is swallowed by the thick darkness. The sight of the droid is transmitted to a small holopad carried by Fives, the ARC trooper bringing it over to the two Jedi so they can see what is on the screen as well. 

For a few moments nothing shows, just more and more blackness, the probe droid using echo location to avoid clashing with the walls. Its small body has an easy time maneuvering through the large tunnel, sensors picking up that the diameter is larger than two meters in all directions. Enough room for everyone in the party to easily make their way through if the location is safe enough. The droid beeps in varying tones as it progresses, seeming to be growing worried. 

"If you feel unsafe just come back," Echo reassures the droid, "You're doing great so far however." The words ease the droid a bit, the small probe moving forward at a slightly quicker pace, not wanting to slow and spend more time in the pitch blackness than needed. 

Then, something comes into vision, the walls starting to become visible like the veil of shadows is letting up. Deeper and deeper the droid goes, finding the further it travels the clearer it gets. 

Unlike the cavern the group finds themselves in, the tunnels below are smoothly carved, the walls rounded and almost gleaming against the light cast by the droid’s flashlight. The ceiling seems to glitter, small shards of crystals embedded in the rock. A beautiful sight if not for the foreboding darkness slithering behind. 

Finally, it comes upon a chamber, one much larger than any of the ones they have seen while traveling through the network of tunnels. It is massive, bigger than the Jedi Council Chambers, small little pockets at the edges filled with various trinkets and items that are unrecognizable. Towards the center is what catches their attention, Echo commanding the droid to focus on that spot. 

The droid beeps, the sound ringing akin to nervousness in a fleshed being. It’s afraid to approach, feeling the same trepidation that the Jedi feel even with the distance away from the chamber. Still, the droid approaches the spot, the feed showing details on the object catching their attention. 

“What is that. . .?” Fives lets his words fall of his lips deliberately, in pure confusion at what they are seeing, “All this fuss over that—if it is what the large clanker is looking for?” 

“That. . .” Plo Koon falters, something that never seems to occur with the Jedi Master, one that is certain with his words and actions, “that is the source of this Darkside power?” 

Shaak Ti shakes her head, fingers pressing closer to her palm to sooth the disquiet that boils up just at the sight of it, “What use would something so common be for Dooku?” She turns to the troopers with thought before focusing on her Jedi companion. Sith artifacts usually have power tied to them, but those are grander items than this: a lightsaber, trophies from their famous battles, anything but something as simple as this. Though, that could be the purpose: a simple item that tomb raiders would not think about stealing unless they know the history. This tomb hasn’t been raided however, and no sarcophagus is in sight. So, where is the body or did this Sith not have a body to rest inside the tomb? 

“I think the only way we can find out is by going down there and seeing it for ourselves.” It’s not the best plan, but it is the best they can do now. They could wait for Master Kenobi and his group, but perhaps it would take long enough they would run into Grievous, or something worse. 

“Generals,” Fives interrupts Master Ti’s thoughts, his voice full of panic, “I think we’ve got a big problem.” She pulls back to examining the footage on the holopad. Her eyes grow wide as she sees what the ARC trooper means by ‘a big problem.’ It is not a problem of the battle droid kind or the horrifying murderous amalgamation of flesh and machine kind of problem, but the kind that makes her the most afraid. 

A group of young padawans, huddled in the back of the expansive room, their hands shaking as they hold their unsheathed lightsabers. They look terrified, all eyes wide as they stare at the one before them. The figure it too familiar for the two Jedi. Master Sekt Tarr, two short-lightsabers one blue and one yellow. Why is he attacking the padawans?! 

Without much thought, Shaak Ti drops through the hole, hearing the troopers as well as Plo Koon follow suit, uncaring for their own safety if the darkness has some effect on them or not, because the padawans need their help NOW. There’s a moment where she feels light headed, landing awkwardly on the ground before catching her balance. It feels like something is crawling under his skin, trying to slither further into her flesh. It clings onto her body, cold air surrounding her as she breaks into a sprint towards what she feels is forward. The sound of the others behind her gives comfort, and the bitter nip of the cold starts to vanish along with the crawling feeling. 

She moves at wicked speeds, barreling through the tunnel as she reaches out with the force to keep herself from running into walls. Master Plo and the troopers are hot on her heels as they enter the main chamber. They all skid to a halt, focusing on the Jedi Master. He stands int he same position, moving at a lazy Hutt's pace towards the padawans. Intent on something, but at the moment not slaughtering the younglings. 

“Tarr!” Shaak Ti shrieks out, pulling out her saber as Sekt doesn’t yield—his advancements towards the younglings continue. 

“Stop this imminently!” Plo Koon calls out. It is something he despises doing, but in the moment, it is called for. Channeling the Force, he pulses it directly at Sekt, stunning the Jedi in his place. There’s a moment it slips, but the master doesn’t move as Shaak Ti assists in holding him. 

Frozen in place, Master Tarr thrashes, starting to spit and screaming sounds none have heard before. Is it a language or insane ramblings? It sounds like the echoes they have heard brush across the planet, drifting in the wind. 

“Kids, over here,” Echo waves for them to circle around the exterior edge, Fives on the other side to give them another way to go around while the younger troopers hold their weapons at the ready to defend the younglings. Quickly, in a single file line they scurry over to the ARC troopers, each one helping them along before taking them back to the group. The padawans group behind the Council Members, Echo and Fives joining up at their sides and readying their weapons just in case things went even more south. 

With the younglings safe behind them, Plo Koon focuses on Sket, “Master Tarr,” there’s a moment to wait for the man to look over, slowly releasing the hold they both have on him. As his eyes turn, it reveals more than what words could say. 

The brilliant green eyes of Sekt Tarr are hazed over, pure white encasing the iris and pupils, leaving him with a ghostly, dead expression. His body acts like it is limp, being held up by strings rather than standing on his own. A puppet being pulled and manipulated by an unseen force, invisible strings directing his body to move to their master's will. 

Something is controlling him. This is not him. He would never take his lightsabers to padawans, especially after losing his own padawan to the deadly blades of General Grievous. 

“Who are you?” Master Plo demands as he learns this new information, “Release Master Tarr at once.” 

Sekt Tarr moves, shifting around to fully face the group. He's strong, breaking through the Force hold of both Master Plo and Master Ti, but doesn't bother to approach any closer. His eyes remain dull, but he speaks, this time in coherent basic, “You seek to disturb his resting place like many others, and you will pay the price.” Arms raise to his sides, head leaning up towards the ceiling, “I have laid dormant for millennia, trapped within these caverns, and you come here with the intent to take what belongs to him, what belongs to us? I will not allow you to defile this resting place." 

“No,” Shaak Ti pushes forward, letting her voice keep calm despite the gnawing unease lumping in her throat. A hand presses against her chest, right above her heart, “We do not come here to disturb you,” Ti bows her head in reverence, knowing that any spirit will cooperate better if they are shown respect, “we come to stop somebody from disturbing you.” 

Fives follows the Jedi Master’s movements, bowing from the spine to the possessed Jedi, “Our enemies, the Separatists, are here with the intent to take away everything within this resting place to use to their advantage and destroy all we have fought to protect.” 

Sekt tilts his head, the voice coming out as curious, “And what is it that you fight to protect with your lives?” He lowers his hands, looking directly at them with the sabers sheathed but still held, “Do you fight for the people, as this one believes he does—or do you realize your order is corrupt, unable to provide the protection required to save your people? Or do you fight because it is programmed in you? Or is it because you believe what you fight for is the right thing?” 

Such deep questions with an answer demanded. Shaak Ti frowns as Plo Koon answers, “We fight for justice, to protect the people of the Republic and those who need help. We are guardians of peace, and our troops, the Clone Troopers—” a glance to every clone that stands with them at the very moment is given, “—they fight for their brothers, they fight to make sure that everyone can live happily without fear of oppression and death lurking around every corner.” 

A disappointed sigh breathes out from the possessed man, shaking his head is dismay, “You are too blind, too ignorant to see the truth.” He steps forward, closer to the group as they tense up in preparation if a fight breaks out. 

“You have much more to face than Darth Tyranus and Darth Sidious,” The lighstabers as placed back into their positions on Sekt’s belt, “Your people have awoken me, and with my awakening will come his.” His head angles down, staring at the object in the center that draws the attention of the others. There is some bond between the spirit controlling Master Tarr and the item, but what sort of bond? 

Darth Sidious. . . that name doesn't ring familiar to either Jedi. Could this Sidious be the mysterious Sith Master they have been trying to find but have failed to even get a hint of him? Well, if that is so, at least they have a name to go off of. 

The single white object sits in the middle, so simple for being an object of such significance, “And when we both wake, the galaxy will know what it truly means to face the Sith.” 

Hearing that key word, _Sith_ , causes the whole group to take out their weapons. Runner sneers beneath his helmet, grip tightening on his blaster, “You’ll still go down. If you’re dead now, you were defeated once before—and we can do it again.” 

A laugh rises from Sekt, something far different than the voice they just heard. It is deep, crackling as if the one speaking it is in constant pain and his throat burned, “You may have greater numbers, but your knowledge of the Sith is minimal at best. We are not merciful like the ones you know now, and we will bring you a true test of your might.” Not as mercify as the ones they know now? With the knowledge of cruelty of both Dooku and what could be the cruelty of his master, the fact that this spirits says it is _merciful_ leaves all with that pit of dread growing even further. They have something worse to focus on stopping than Grievous. 

“Bring your warriors and your forces,” the Jedi’s body starts to become weaker, his legs barely able to hold the weight of his body, “try to make an alliance with your enemy. All you do, will not delay the future.” A few more steps are taken before Sekt collapses to the ground, the weight the spirit brings along starts to lift, light flowing back into the area save for where the item sits. 

Empty silence lingers, not a single living body moving in fear of a sudden movement may trigger a battle. Apprehension grips every one of them, fingers curling tighter around weapons in anticipation of what is to come. Scenarios go through the ARC troopers' minds, working on anything that could happen and how to react to it. The Jedi Masters remain quiet, focusing on the flow of the force within the tomb, feeling the ebb and flow of both the Light and the Darkside. The weight of the Darkside starts to lighten further, leaving their lungs refreshed and their thoughts clearer. 

A groan of pain rises from the master on the ground, a single hand pressing against his forehead, “Ugh. . . my head.” His eyes shoot up, wide and green as he sees the group before him as they have their weapons out—a mix of fear and anger glimmering in each set of eyes upon him. 

Upon seeing the green in Sekt’s eyes, Master Plo and Master Ti relax, signaling to the troopers that it is okay. Shaak Ti approaches Sekt Tarr, kneeling in front of him, “Are you alright Sekt?” 

“I. . I think so,” he rubs his head a bit before focusing on Shaak, “We stumbled upon this place on accident as we were trying to avoid those beasts and the oncoming sandstorm. I. . . I don’t remember what happened after that, or—” he takes in the surrounding and all who is there, or more specifically who isn’t there, “—what happened to Demmi and padawan Kinta?!” 

“We haven’t found either of them,” Plo laments, lowering his head in a quick moment of silence with the possibility of the other master’s fate and the youngling, “there is still hope to find them.” 

“Then we need to find them!” Sekt rises to his feet before letting out a cry of pain. Clutching his side, the Jedi falls back to the ground, tightly closing his eyes to reduce the focus on the pain and rather on a quick meditation. The pain is immense, unbearable without the distraction of the meditation to ease it to a tolerable level. He doesn't remember how the wound came about, when it happened or what caused it. Suddenly, it's just there smashing its way through his defenses, reminding him that it is there and will be there for a while. 

“We need to get him medical attention,” Fives points out, his eyes scanning the area for an exit. It is fruitful as the scan ends with another tunnel across from where they stand, “There, a way out I can smell fresh air from here coming from that direction.” 

Shaak Ti moves forward, putting an arm around Sekt, “Will you be okay to walk?” He nods with his teeth clenched, bracing himself as she lifts him up to his feet to begin guiding him towards the tunnel. Fives and Echo take up the back, helping to usher along the younglings as they remain silent. It’s going to take a hell of a long time for these poor kids to recover from the trauma suffered during their time being stranded on this hellscape, and even before that being kidnapped by Grievous. 

All the more reason to make that oversized clanker pay for his crimes. 

“Did you get any information on what happened with the younglings?” Master Plo inquires to Master Tarr, taking a quick look back at the rather tired and tattered young padawans. They are the youngest group in the Order currently, just old enough to begin their training, but not old enough to be out on the field. They look beyond tired, some dragging along causing the party’s pace to slow enough to make sure they don’t have to strain their bodies anymore than they must. Most are a bit disheveled but not wounded. Their eyes are hazy, cold and eyelids drooping. They mustn't have had a good night's rest since the day they were kidnapped. That is months without a good rest. No wonder they all look beyond exhausted! 

“They barely escaped the General’s lair on Mustafar, somehow overpowering a group of battldroids and stealing a small ship that was being examined for evidence on our ship’s structures. Master Shan and I found them floating in space.” He begins to describe, wincing as a quick adjustment leaves the stinging pain in his side to rise to the forefront of his mind. Still reminding him of its presence. 

“However,” Tarr grimaces, eyebrows lowering on his forehead, “they weren’t alone. Grievous had followed them all the way here to the Outer Rim, which meant we became the target. He wanted these padawans badly, just as that bounty hunter when he kidnapped those younglings. I don’t know why Grievous was so intent on recapturing the children.” Tarr shakes his head in dismay, “Our small cargo ship had no chance against the whole fleet of Separatist cruisers and vulture droids. After being hit we crashed upon this planet. I don’t even know how we survived.” 

“All that matters is that you are alive, sir,” Fives gives a reassuring smile that is hidden beneath his helmet, the tone upbeat and cheerful, “and we can find Demmi Shan no problem.” 

“I’m happy to hear your positivity Fives,” Shaak Ti hums, shifting her grip on Sekt’s belt to help him stand straighter, “We will need it for what comes.” 

Echo pauses, glances coming from the group as they slow down, “What’s wrong Echo?” Fives steps next to his fellow ARC trooper, taking a gander where the other is looking. Something catches the ARC trooper's eyes, most likely the same thing that got his fellow trooper to question what is going on. There is only one shiny white-armored trooper walking along with them. 

“Racket and Runner are missing,” the ARC trooper frowns, “they were beside us as we were leaving—” his words fall silent as two pairs of footsteps run towards them. Quickly the masses of white get closer, details becoming clearer from the darkness revealing the two missing clones, “Troopers!” Echo scolds them and watches both cringe and shrink at their superior’s scolding, “Where have you been?” 

“Sorry sir,” Runner salutes Echo and Fives, Racket following a few beats behind, “I dropped my supply bag and Racket helped me pick up everything.” 

The two eye the younger Clones for a few moments before giving up. They’ll have to figure out what went on later, for now they need to focus on finding those last two Jedi. Fives shakes his head, signaling them to follow, “Come on, you’ll be explaining yourselves to Commander Cody and Captain Rex later.” 

The two peek at each other, frowns hidden before following the troopers to catch up with the group. 

"We're going to get in a lot of trouble for this," Racket hisses softly to Runner. He seems visibly unsettled, eyes shifting around them beneath the helmet, "This is a bad idea!" 

Runner rolls his eyes, adjusting the backpack over his shoulder, shifting the frown into a slight smirk, "We found the source of the Darkside, we're making the lives of our commanders and the Jedi easier. No object, no chance of the head clanker getting a hold of it and sending it to his puppet masters." 

"I still don't like not telling either of the ARCs," Racket shakes his head, but doesn't pry further on the topic. What's done has been done. They are going to have to live with their choices and see what transpires after that. At least, Grievous won't be succeeding on his little mission that brought him to Moraband.


End file.
